Page 7 of Through the Snow Globe
“William,” she repeated. William Davis was one of Diana’s coworkers. He was young, single, and high-energy. And he treated everyone as if they were his best friend, which bothered Diana for some reason. Best friends were hard won; they didn’t happen in the span of thirty minutes. Diana had known her best friend, Rochelle, for two decades now. They’d met in middle school and, after a period of loathing each other, they’d found common ground and had worked their way to friendship. “That’s . . . nice of him.”
“It is. William goes above and beyond with his patients, doesn’t he?” Mr. Powell asked good-naturedly.
He said it as if it were a good thing, but Diana didn’t necessarily think so. “But Maria isn’thispatient.” She offered a wobbly smile to offset the sudden defensiveness rising inside her. She could feel her confidence melting away along with the antiperspirant that wasn’t working.
Mr. Powell shrugged. “Like I said, we’re a family here at Powell Rehabilitation. We’re all one big happy family.”
“Of course.” Diana didn’t know much about family, but she didn’t think her workplace qualified. Work was one’s professional life and family and friends was personal. The two shouldn’t mix.
“That’s why I called you here, Diana,” Mr. Powell finally said.
That statement was Diana’s first red flag. She’d assumed her boss had called the meeting to discuss the promotion she’d applied for. The one she was a shoo-in to get. But her promotion had nothing to do with William or Maria.
Mr. Powell pressed the tips of his fingers together in front of him as he looked at her over his glasses. “I like to shoot straight with my employees. You are one of the best therapists I have here at the company, Diana. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you, sir.” Confidence surged inside her once more. Maybe this was about the promotion after all. Perhaps, in a few hours, she and Linus would be toasting her new role with the company.
“But . . .” Mr. Powell said, hesitating for a moment.
Here came red flag number two.
“. . . I don’t see you in a leadership position at this time.” There was a note of apology in his voice.
Diana swallowed as her mind struggled to process his words. A half dozen emotions hit her all at once. Disappointment. Confusion. Embarrassment. She didn’t know what to say so she said nothing as she sat there numbly staring at her boss. She raised her hand to twist her pearl earring, a nervous habit that occupied her hands while helping her remember to breathe. Rotate—breathe in. Rotate—breath out. Rotate. Rotate.Just don’t hyperventilate in Mr. Powell’s office.
“Leadership requires a complex skill set of knowledge, experience, and heart. That’s why I’m planning to promote William. I’m sure you understand, and that you’ll offer him your best wishes,” Mr. Powell said with an easy smile. As if this information were no big deal.
“William?” she repeated in a shrill voice, rotating her pearl earring faster now. “But William hasn’t been here as long as me.”Shehad seniority. This promotion was rightfully hers.
“Time is relative. With William’s passion for patient care, and his rapport among the staff here, he’ll make a great supervisor.”
How was this happening? Was she dreaming? Having a nightmare? William would be her supervisor?Shewas the one who’d trainedhim. Was this because William was a man? Diana had never considered Mr. Powell a sexist, but what other reason would he have for promoting William over her?
“Practically every patient of William’s turns in a Glow Card,” Mr. Powell went on, oblivious to her scattered emotions.
Glow Cards were inserted in all the patients’ informational folders given to them at their initial evaluations. Patients could fill out the print version or go online and complete a form there. In Diana’s experience, most patients didn’t complete the forms at all. It was optional, and it required that patients go above and beyond. William probably coaxed his patients into filling out those cards. Perhaps he even bribed them or filled them out himself.
“There’s more to being a good supervisor than knowing how to complete the paperwork,” Mr. Powell said offhandedly.
Diana drew back. “I’m sorry? Sir, I have a good relationship with my coworkers and my patients.”
“Of course you do. I only meant to say that management isn’t easy.” He tipped his head in her direction. “Actually, I did receive one Glow Card on you in the last two weeks.”
Diana felt her insides light up even though she was on the verge of either crying or throwing something. Maybe that crystal picture frame on Mr. Powell’s desk. She’d never gotten a Glow Card before, even though her other coworkers got them a couple times a year. What were they doing differently? “One of my patients filled out a card?” she asked.
Mr. Powell wasn’t smiling. Instead, he looked nervous for the first time in this meeting. He reached for a piece of paper on his desk and seemed to blink the text into focus before reading the comment that was left. “‘Diana Merriman is a qualified physical therapist. She seemed to know what she was talking about, even though I often found her bedside manner to be overly curt.’ ”
“Curt?”How is that a compliment?“Who wrote that?” Diana asked.
Mr. Powell shook his head, looking up from the piece of paper he was holding. “It doesn’t matter. The fact that your patient took the time to comment on you is progress.” He set the paper back on his desk. “And progress is always welcome. This will look good on your annual review in a couple of months,” he said as if that was any comfort right now. “Diana, I want you to know that you’re respected here. As I said before, Powell Rehabilitation is lucky to have you on its staff. I always depend on you to train the new hires.”
“Which is part of the supervisor’s role,” Diana pointed out. Her forced smile felt more like an uncomfortable twitch now. “I’m not curt. I’m professional,” she argued numbly.
“I don’t disagree with that. Rest assured, William thinks very highly of you. You’ll be in good hands with him as your supervisor. And I’m sure he can give you a few tips on improving your bedside manner.”
“My bedside manner is just fine,” Diana bit out. “I don’t know who wrote that comment, but my patients all seem very satisfied with me, sir. Maybe I don’t pry into their personal lives, but I am not curt.”
“I’m sure.” Mr. Powell stood and reached out his hand for her to shake. Apparently, this meeting was over. It hadn’t really been an interview at all. Mr. Powell was just checking on Diana after Maria’s injury and giving her the courtesy of finding out firsthand that she wasn’t getting promoted. And that she’d gotten a Glow Card calling her “curt.”
